


I Love You, I Know

by NeverAndAlways



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Childbirth, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Rodney McKay/John Sheppard Married, Writer's Block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-14 00:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11771616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverAndAlways/pseuds/NeverAndAlways
Summary: Trying to get my muse back in gear with a short fic. Unrelated to my other SGA stories (but inspired by respoftw's very sweet fic), just an idea I wanted to mess around with.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Miracle of Male Pregnancy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10223423) by [respoftw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw). 



> Now has a sequel, because...I don't know why, but I wrote it: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13466232/chapters/30871644

Teyla slips through the infirmary doors and looks around. Around a corner she sees John, trying to look comfortable in a folding chair. He looks up.

"Hey." he sounds tired. In more ways than one.

Teyla heads toward him. "Good morning. I hope I'm not intruding; I heard Rodney was in labor, and wanted to offer..." she turns the corner and hesitates. The room is empty, save for John. "...my congratulations. Where is he?"

John nods toward the opposite doorway. "He'll be back."

That's not really an answer, but alright...she nods as though she understands, and pulls up another folding chair. "May I?" John makes a noise that's probably an affirmative. They sit for a moment, until the silence gets too loud not to interrupt. "How are you holding up?"

"My husband's in labor, how do you think I'm holding up?"

Teyla arches an eyebrow. It's not often that John is actually prickly. "I don't know, but I expect you are about to tell me."

John sighs and drags a hand over his eyes. "Nervous as hell, that's how."

Teyla smiles gently. But before she can respond, another voice chimes in from the other room.

"Rodney, I'm fine with you walking around if you need to, but wouldya at least stay in one room?"

It's Carson. He sounds exasperated, as people tend to when dealing with Rodney. John looks up toward the sound.

"The infirmary only has three rooms, Carson, where do you think I'm going to go? The mainland? Considering my top speed right now is roughly equivalent to that of a  _sloth,_ " Rodney appears in the doorway, talking to Carson behind him. He's dressed more casually than Teyla's ever seen him, in a T-shirt and sweatpants that barely cover his belly. He stops when he sees Teyla. Carson almost runs into him.

"Oh. Hello, Teyla," says Carson, sounding a little tired. "did you need something?"

"No, thank you, Carson. I just came to see how John and Rodney are doing." she nods to Rodney, who looks flustered.

"Yes, well. We're fine, thank you," he says airily. "I mean, as fine as I can be, considering I'm about t--"

" _Rodney."_ Carson interrupts. He moves around to stand next to his patient. Rodney startles. "For the last time, would ye at least sit down?"

"Why?"

"I need to take your vitals."

"You already have."

Carson sighs patiently. "Yes, and I need to do it again so I can monitor you and the baby. You're primigravida, you could be at risk for complications."

Now Rodney looks alarmed. John does too, albeit a little less so. "I could?"

"It's unlikely, but yes." Carson takes advantage of the distraction to gently herd his patient toward the bed. "Now please, sit  _down."_

Rodney allows Carson to lower him onto the bed, although he looks annoyed at having to be still. He and John exchange a glance. Carson swiftly clips a pulse oximeter onto Rodney's finger to stop him from getting away again. Rodney eyes it impassively while Carson takes his temperature. Then Carson unclips the pulse oximeter, wraps a blood pressure cuff around his arm, and starts to inflate it. At which point Rodney starts to look uncomfortable.

"Ow."

"Sorry. Too tight?"

"No, contraction--" Rodney grimaces. John leans forward and first brushes Rodney's knuckles with his fingertips and then, when Rodney seems to accept that, laces their fingers together.

"I gotcha," he says softly. There's a note of conviction in his voice that's more Colonel Sheppard than just John, and Rodney seems to pick up on it. He gives John's hand a brief squeeze. When it's over he lays back, panting, and seems marginally less grumpy about Carson hovering by the bed. Although he does say "ow" again, more emphatically. 

Carson turns to Teyla. "Sorry love, I think we need some privacy from here on out."

Teyla nods and stands up from her chair. John looks up at her; Rodney waves weakly. She gives them a smile. "Good luck to you both," she says, and turns to leave.

 

Before she even reaches the door, they're squabbling again.

 

^^^


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is a three-chapter fic, then. I've got a deadline coming up for another project, but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging for too long. Still saving the best for last, though...enjoy! :)

"Alright, I can't do this..."

Rodney sits back on the bed. The movement jostles the little travel-size Scrabble board in front of him. John frowns.

"What?"

"This. I can't concentrate, I just...you win. Put it away." he waves a dismissive hand.

Now there's a gleam in John's eye. "Are you forfeiting?"

"Yes, and don't look so proud of yourself. It's a one-time thing."

John glances at his deck as he starts to pick tiles off the board. He's not complaining; it's all vowels. Rodney stands up, jostling the board again. A tile or two falls to the floor and clatters away under a table.

"It's not even a fair win," Rodney continues, "I mean, you're playing against a pregnant guy. I'm compromised."

"I think you just don't like losing," John teases. He gets a dark look from Rodney. "Hey, it's like sparring with Ronon. I'll take the wins wherever I can get 'em."

Rodney rolls his eyes. Then his breath catches and he has to prop himself up on the nearest table, screwing his eyes shut. That's a minute early.

John watches with his heart in his throat. They've known each other three years, been married for two-and-a-half, and he's never seen Rodney this vulnerable. He'd be happy to never see it again. Rodney rocks back and forth in silence while the contraction takes its course. Then he lets out a loud breath as though coming up for air.

"Son of a... _fuck."_ he stands up straighter. "What was that, ten minutes?"

"Think so." John tries to sound casual. He dumps the Scrabble tiles into their little cloth bag. "You holdin' up okay? I mean, Carson said it's not too late for an epidural, if you want to..."

"Godno," Rodney interrupts with his usual vehemence. "I'd rather _not_ have a giant needle inserted into my spinal cord, thank you very much." he ducks around the adjacent bed and shuffles away.

"Hey, where you off to?"

"Gonna do some more laps. I need to move."

John watches him take a few steps; it's slow going. He ambles over to his husband. "Mind if I join you?"

Almost imperceptibly, Rodney's expression softens. "Sure."

John holds out his arm and motions for Rodney to take it. This earns him a withering look. "I'm not just being chivalrous," he explains, "you're a fall risk. Carson said so." he gestures again. So Rodney (grudgingly) links his arm with John's, and they set off.

Rodney is proving to be just as vocal during labor as he is in...well, every other aspect of his life. He chats absently while he walks, about whatever comes into his head. Anything from his newest theories to Zelenka's latest story. John just lets him talk, contributing the occasional "hmm" or "really?" and letting the words wash over him. He knows they don't mean anything.

But with Rodney's chatting and John helping him stay upright, they both lose track of time. That is, until Rodney interrupts himself mid-sentence.

"...but everyone -- at least, anyone with a basic knowledge of the field -- knows that you can't solve a graph isomorphism in polynomial time any more than you can...oh god. John." Rodney stops in his tracks.

"What's wrong?"

"Contraction. Big one. Oh my  _god_ \--" Rodney squares his stance and tightens his grip on John's arm.

"Hey, take it easy." John steps in front of Rodney, unhooks him gently from his arm, and moves Rodney's hands to his shoulders for a little more stability. Rodney doesn't argue. "Breathe, McKay, you're alright. I gotcha." he moves his own hands to Rodney's waist and rests them there. "I gotcha." at this point, he doesn't know who he's trying to reassure.

Rodney ends the contraction almost wrapped around John. He catches his breath.

"D'you think," he pants, "it's possible to dislocate your hips during labor?"

John smirks. "I doubt it."

"That's sure as hell what it feels like."

"Well, if your legs fall off, I'd be happy to reattach them for you," John says airily. Rodney rolls his eyes.

"You're all heart." he rests his forehead on John's collarbone and sighs into the space between them. John rubs his thumbs back and forth across Rodney's hipbones.

"Wanna keep moving?"

Rodney hesitates. His voice is muffled in John's shirt. "Actually, uh...can we stay here for while?"

Now John smiles a genuine smile. Widens his stance a little, and rests his chin (awkwardly) on the top of Rodney's head.

"Absolutely."

 

* * *

 

John and Rodney are dancing.

Only in the broadest sense of the word, though. Really they're just swaying, with only the occasional small side-step to qualify it as a dance. Rodney doesn't have enough energy to walk around now, but the contractions are too much to take sitting down. So here they are. A laptop sits open on an equipment cart, playing something soft and classical. Carson's dimmed the lights by a notch or two; he's working somewhere nearby. Out of sight but close enough to keep an ear out.

Rodney's hands tighten on John's shoulders: the start of another contraction. John checks his watch. Four minutes exactly. He feels Rodney get heavier, hanging off of him; he moves his hands up from Rodney's waist to under his arms, and sways a little more. "'S alright, just lean your weight on me."

"John.  _John. **Ow.** " _ Rodney's voice is just shy of a whimper.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm right here." John tries to kiss the closest ear. He misses and gets a nose full of Rodney's hair instead. Rodney doesn't seem to notice. He just digs his fingers -- his  _nails_ , for god's sake -- into John's back at the peak of the contraction. Then he sags toward the floor when it's over, panting hard.

"So," John murmurs to fill the silence, once Rodney's breathing has evened out. "What do you think? Is it a girl or a boy?"

"Hm?"

"The baby. Girl or boy?"

Dredging up an answer seems to take a moment. "Well, uh...statistically speaking, overall, boys account for 51% of births. But for first births, it's--"

"No, Rodney -- what do you _think_ it's gonna be?"

His husband pulls back to look at him. Then he lays his head in the crook of John's neck and ponders for another moment.

"...I think it's a boy."

John smiles. Fondness bubbles up warmly in his chest. "Me t--"

"...Statistically speaking."

"Oh my god." way to ruin the moment, McKay.

"Hey, you asked."

They lapse into silence. A new song starts up on the laptop...something by Strauss. Or is it Sousa? John taps his feet a little while he sways, until Rodney informs him that he's off-tempo.

Twelve hours of labor, and he's still snarky.

The infirmary doors open. A young lieutenant comes in, dressed in full combat uniform and cradling one battered-looking arm. Must have just come back from a mission. She seems surprised to find John and Rodney here; she openly stares at them until Rodney stares daggers back at her. When Carson comes out of his office, he flashes them a smile before ushering her into the next room over to talk. Rodney glares until she's out of sight.

"God, I wish they wouldn't stare," he grumbles into John's shoulder. "I mean, I'm all for the attention, but that's just rude."

"Yeah, I hear you." John sighs. "Can't say I blame 'em, though. You look pretty damn good." he swears he can feel Rodney rolling his eyes at that.

"You're hopeless."

"Yep." can't argue with that one. "And yet, you married me."

"Only because you said yes."

John has to stifle a laugh. But not for long: Rodney's hands clamp down on his shoulders again.

"Already?"

Rodney grits out an affirmative sound. This is a bad one. John shifts to support his weight, and -- wait, is Rodney  _shivering?_ His heart jumps to his throat again, and it's several seconds until he can force it back down enough for his voice to work. In the end, he just whispers little nonsense words and hopes they sound comforting. Rodney moans through the contraction, dark and guttural and surprisingly baritone. And just as it's letting go, he hesitates. Detaches himself from his husband. Looks down.

"Oh,  _gross_."

John follows his gaze: Rodney's sweatpants are soaked through, and there's a small puddle between his feet. A shot of adrenaline runs up John's back. He cranes over his shoulder and takes a breath, but Rodney beats him to it:

"CARSON? DR. BECKETT!? _"_ he yells in the direction of the office, not to mention right in his husband's ear. He staggers.

Carson appears in an instant (as does the curious lieutenant, peering around the door and sporting a bandaged arm). He sprints across to them.

"What's wrong?"

"Water broke," Rodney says, and immediately starts to apologize, but Carson doesn't look irritated or even surprised. 

"So it has," he says conversationally. He smiles. "You're getting there, Rodney. Shouldn't be more than a couple hours now."

"But the floor--"

"I'll take care of it. I promise you, this floor has seen worse. In the meantime, let's find you some dry clothes," Carson soothes. "Sit tight, love, I'll be with you in a minute," he adds to the lieutenant, who nods and disappears back around the corner. Turning his attention back to his patient, Carson hovers a hand at Rodney's back to keep him stable while he steps away from John. "Shall we?"

Rodney doesn't argue as they lead him away. But he sure as hell does complain.

 

^^^


	3. Chapter 3

Evening. There's a brief hustle-and-bustle, as shifts change for the night and people head to the mess hall or their quarters. Most nights, even John and Rodney would be heading toward dinner. But tonight, that's the last thing on their minds.

Rodney's two hours into pushing now, and has no progress to show for it. He's wearing out.

He might be starting to panic.

John is trying very hard not to do the same.

Rodney cries out -- largely out of frustration -- as the latest round eases up enough to let him breathe. There's really no break between them now, just periods where they're not as intense.

"It's not coming," he croaks, "why isn't it coming?"

"It is," John soothes. "You're doing fine, Rodney." he looks up at Carson, bustling around on an equipment cart. The doctor turns around; the flash of concern on his face is hard to miss. "...he's doing fine, right?"

"Things are stalling a wee bit," says Carson. "Baby's doing fine for now, but we need to get it out sooner rather than later."

"I thought that's what I was doing," Rodney grits out the words at the top of a contraction. Carson smirks, but not unkindly.

"Just pant through this one. Let yourself rest a moment." he goes to the head of the bed and leans down to a control panel of some sort. A mechanical noise, and the top half of the bed tilts back a few degrees. Rodney goes with it, puffing and panting and seeming not to notice. When the contraction dies down, Carson gets his attention. "Alright Rodney, I need you to turn around and get up onto your knees -- slowly now, let John help you..." with the help of both John and Carson, Rodney manages to get more or less upright and turn around to kneel at the head of the bed.There, he props his forearms on the mattress and leans his head against them, panting. The hospital gown bunches up around his belly, making it look almost comically round. "This should make things easier," Carson explains as he goes. "Gravity will bring the baby down more, so you can work more effectively with the contractions--" Rodney interrupts him with a loud moan as he bears down again. His back is bowed; one hand is white-knuckling the edge of the mattress.

"Hey. Slow down, babe." John lays a hand between his husband's shoulders. Just as suddenly as he started, Rodney breaks off his effort.

"...Holy shit."

"What? You okay?"

Rodney doesn't answer. He moves his knees farther apart and pushes again, with the same intensity as before. Hard enough to make the muscles stand out in his neck.

"Well, I think it's safe to say that worked..." Carson pulls on a new pair of gloves.

"Whoever's touching me," Rodney pants, "needs...to stop. Or they're gonna...lose...their arm." John quickly withdraws his hand. Rodney's got his second wind, alright.

When the contraction tapers off, Carson moves in to check Rodney's progress. "Nearly there," he flashes a small smile. "Just need to bring it down a little further; should be smooth sailing after that. Give me a big push on the next one, as hard as you can."

Rodney braces his upper body on the mattress and does as he's told, pushing so hard his muscles shake with the effort. Without thinking, John reaches out again to try and reassure him. He gets snarled at for his trouble.

"Good, I think that did it." Carson gives them another smile; a full one this time. "Shouldn't be much longer now." he catches John's eye as he takes a step back from the bed, and John is suddenly light-headed. This is it.

Rodney rolls his hips slowly from side to side, trying to redistribute some of the pressure. He's still shivering. Pushing seems to take him by surprise; he lets out an anxious sound when he stops for breath. Then he pushes again, harder.

"Slow and steady, Rodney. You're doing fine."

John watches from the sidelines. Everything seems far away, like looking through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars. He's fucking terrified. Happy, of course, and excited -- but also terrified. What are they getting themselves into?

Rodney lets out another anxious noise, just shy of a whimper. " _Burning_ ," he blurts out urgently.

"It's alright, that's normal. Just breathe through it." Carson tries to reassure him, and gets ignored completely. Rodney throws himself into pushing with a deep grunt. Carson lays a steadying hand on Rodney's lower back, which he doesn't seem to notice this time. "Crowning soon," he says, and John can hear Rodney's breath hitch. Rodney unclenches his hand from the edge of the mattress and reaches down past his belly, between his legs. He pushes again. His eyes widen, and he lets out a breath of surprise.

"Is that--?"

"It is. See if you can bring it to crown on the next one."

John moves as close to the head of the bed as he can get and tries to close the space between himself and his husband, taking Rodney's free hand in both of his own. Rodney doesn't seem to mind this time. He doesn't look up or acknowledge John's presence, but he does squeeze the hell out of his fingers.

"Still burning," he says through clenched teeth at the end of the contraction.

"I know, but you're almost there. Push hard." Carson has a knee up on the bed. Watching Rodney's progress but not intervening. Rodney's voice is starting to go, but he still vocalizes his way through pushing. "That's it, keep going. Almost there."

"John--" it's more of a sob than a word; Rodney scoots himself up on the bed, trying to get more leverage for the next contraction. John presses a kiss to his knuckles. It's only part of him he can reach.

"You got this, McKay. Keep going, just a little more."

No sooner have the words left his mouth than Rodney bears down again. For the first time since this all started, his voice rises to a low scream. It makes John's hair stand on end. But when he looks down, Carson is smiling.

"Head's out."

Rodney breathes a sigh of relief and relaxes slightly, a weak smile on his face. He loosens his grip enough for John to get some circulation back in his fingers. John reaches out with his other hand and ghosts it across Rodney's cheek in a rare display of affection. It's wet; Rodney's crying. That's just as rare.

"Almost at the finish line, babe," he says softly. "One last sprint, then you're done." he sees Carson grab towels and a few other supplies from a cart, and his heart bangs on his ribs.

"Alright, Rodney. There's no cord, so go ahead and push when you're ready." Carson sits back, calm and waiting. Rodney doesn't respond at first, just widens his stance and rocks as though making up his mind. Which his body quickly does for him: the contraction creeps up on him, and he bears down before he's aware of it with a deep, rasping groan. He reaches down between his legs again. His breath catches.

This is it.

He pauses for the space of a few heartbeats. He's still shaking.

"I gotcha, Rodney. You're so close." John breathes.

Now Rodney takes a deep breath. Time slows, the way it does in a car accident or on a rollercoaster. He doubles down with the contraction, grunting hard as he pushes. He shouts at the peak of the contraction --

\-- and then Carson is lifting up a tiny, red-faced bundle and reaching for a towel, and the thready cry of a newborn fills the infirmary.

And John is crying right along with Rodney and he hasn't cried in years but it's a good cry. He lets go of Rodney's hand as Rodney sinks back onto his haunches.

"Congratulations, gentlemen." says Carson, towelling the baby off. "It's a girl."

"Wait, what?" Rodney cranes over his shoulder.

"Aye. Wouldn't make a habit of trusting your intuition on these things." Carson teases.

Slowly, with much creaking of joints and rearranging, they get Rodney turned around again. The baby is still squalling, outraged at this turn of events. Rodney zeroes in the moment he lays eyes on her.

"Can I...can I hold her? Is she okay?" his voice is completely shot.

"She's perfectly healthy." Carson wraps her loosely in a towel and finally hands her over.

All the air goes out of Rodney's lungs. He holds the baby close to his chest; clumsy and completely enthralled. Carson tidies a few things and watches a moment before slipping away to give them some privacy.

The baby cries a little more and gradually stops. The soft noises of the infirmary are a quiet backdrop, and the sounds of Atlantis behind that. The baby gurgles to herself. John squeezes himself onto the bed next to his husband. He's just as enthralled.

Eventually Rodney finds his voice again. He laughs to himself, a little unsteadily, glances at John, then turns his attention right back to his daughter (his  _daughter_ \-- he has to repeat that word a few times just to get used to it).

"Hey, little buddy. Sorry for calling you a boy all this time...but I guess you don't care much, do you?" he laughs again.

"She's incredible, Rodney," John whispers.

"Even though she's not a he?"

"I wouldn't care if she was an octopus," John says without hesitation. "She's  _ours._ "

"...You know, I'm glad you're not mushy like this all the time."

"Hey, I've been awake almost 24 hours, same as you. I'm allowed to be mushy."

Rodney scoffs and lapses into silence, too tired to argue the point. The baby, now alert and calm, stares up at him. She has John's eyes, right down to the skeptical look.

"What about Athena?"

" _Athena_?" John echoes incredulously.

"Yeah. You know, ancient Greek? Goddess of wisdom and military--"

"I know that, but the name's bigger than she is!"

"So maybe not?"

"Definitely not."

"What about Amalia?" John continues. "Might not be an ancient Greek goddess, but it was my great-aunt's name."

"Ugh."

"Well, if you've got something better than Athena, I'd love to hear it."

Another pause. The wind picks up outside.

"Holly?"

John thinks. "Where's that one come from?"

"I don't know. I just like the sound of it."

The baby snuffles; her parents watch her intently. Rodney meets John's gaze. Neither one can think of a reason to dislike the name.

"...I guess she's a Holly."

"I guess she is. Holly McKay-Sheppard." John draws his fingers along the single, wispy tuft of hair on the top of her head. He grins, turns and draws Rodney into a clumsy kiss.

"I love you."

Rodney smirks. "I know." This surprises his husband into laughing. Rodney gives him a sidelong look. "What?"

"Nothing, you just...never mind." John settles back down, still smiling giddily. It occurs to him, as he watches Rodney with the baby, that Atlantis feels a lot more like home.

 

* * *

 

The infirmary door cracks open. Carson turns around from his computer station.

"Teyla?"

"Hello." she slips into the room and looks around, as though worried someone might see her. Carson looks concerned.

"Can I help you, love?"

"I...came to see how Dr. McKay is doing. Has he...?" she trails off, looking sheepish, but Carson seems to understand. He gestures to the doorway.

Teyla peers around the corner. There's Rodney in a hospital bed, limp as a ragdoll and fast asleep, with tired gray circles under his eyes. His husband is curled up in a chair next to the bed, gently bouncing a bundle in his arms; he looks just as tired. He glances up and catches sight of her, and a grin spreads across his face as he mouths, " _I'm a dad_ ".

Teyla can't help but grin in response. She doesn't often see John this happy. Even as she thanks Carson, leaves the infirmary, and wanders away, she's still grinning. She's got some news to tell.

 

^^^ 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like the story, please leave a comment -- I'd love to hear from you!


End file.
